


Built for a Journey

by Renabe



Series: Journey Home - a Clovember Series [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Clovember (RWBY), Clovember2020, Established Relationship, Fresh Start, Leaving Atlas, M/M, Not Beta Read, SOMFT, Sort Of, cute awkward old lads, post revival fic, vague reference to v7ch12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renabe/pseuds/Renabe
Summary: Clovember Day 24 - Journey“You’re not trying to convince me not to come, are you?”“No, of course not. I’d be… grateful to have you. It’s just, you’re built for the cold tundra, not the scorching desert.”Clover considers the statement, chewing a lip as he mulls it over more thoughtfully than is probably necessary. To stop himself from saying what he wants, for it’s far too soon to joke like that. Even if it’s not a joke at all.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Journey Home - a Clovember Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026349
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	Built for a Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a link to the art piece that goes with this fic! And another link to the full outfit Clover is wearing.
> 
> https://renabe4life.tumblr.com/post/635722307689644032/clovember-day-24-journey-leaving-home-heading
> 
> https://renabe4life.tumblr.com/post/634904536479318016/clovember-day-15-change-change-of-clothes-change
> 
> Also I put this in a series, mostly for organisation. I have another Clovember fic I'll be posting.

It’s strange, seeing Ironwood after everything that happened, and Qrow fights the urge to duck away from all the medical equipment in the makeshift hospital. Not quite a prison cell, but not very comfortable either. He’d rather be anywhere else.

Still, he prefers to give a proper goodbye, considering the number of people in his life who’ve disappeared without so much as a word.

The conversation is strained, awkward. Until it shifts to Clover.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You of all people would be able to see through his professionalism to the absolute brat underneath,” he says with a shake of his head.

Qrow quirks an eyebrow. “Not very professional when he backflips into danger just to show off for me.”

James's eyes widen a moment before a laugh overtakes him. It hurts, and he clutches his bandaged stomach well after the shaking subsides. It’s a handful of time before he can manage to ask, “Did he really?”

Qrow would say to ask him himself, but he is well aware Clover has no intention of coming to see James before they leave. He’s already said everything he wanted to say to the man he once considered a friend. Qrow’s not surprised. He knows the pain of betrayal and the time it takes to heal. Once they’ve ended this war for good, perhaps he’ll find it in himself to forgive.

Right now it’s all the two of them can manage to forgive each other.

“I know… I have no right to ask anything of you, but,” James says, dropping his gaze to the hospital sheet his hands have bunched in his lap. He breathes deeply before looking back up at questioning red eyes that are just a little guarded. “Take care of him… and let him take care of you. I know both of you well enough to know you tend to take on more than you should and… well, look where that landed me.” He doesn’t bring up where it almost landed Qrow or Clover already, where it _did_ land Clover for a short time. Because that wasn’t their fault, not really. He knows the hand he played in their pain. He knows, and has no desire to add to it.

Qrow rolls his eyes, almost fondly. “Don’t worry. It’s like you said, we can see through each other’s bullshit. And if that isn’t enough, Ruby and the rest of the family we got with us will knock some sense into us. They’re good at that.”

It’s a beat of time before James replies, voice but a whisper, “They are, aren’t they.”

Silence settles over them at the admission, heavy and tense. If only the man could have realised sooner that- No. He’s had enough of lamenting past events.

“Well, I gotta go make sure my family is ready to hit the road.” Or skies, as it were. “We’re leaving today, so this is goodbye.”

“Right, of course. Uh, safe travels.”

“Take care of yourself,” Qrow says, and leaves it at that.

It doesn’t take long for him to check in with the kids. They are more than happy to put this place behind them now that the battle is over, though he can tell they already miss the comfort and routine it once offered. Qrow is grateful for the weeks of near peace they had the chance to experience, even if it was shattered so suddenly. 

“We’ll make our way to the airship then. What about your things, Uncle Qrow?”

He blinks, clearing his head before ruffling Ruby’s hair lightly. “Most of my stuff’s already on board, slowpoke.”

She snorts and swats at him. “Only most?”

“Yeah. I uh, got one big thing left.”

Lips quirk into a knowing smile, soft as she hugs her uncle. When she pulls back, though, there’s a smug grin in its place. “Well, hurry it up, slowpoke.”

And she’s gone in a burst of petals, leaving him to stare blankly while the rest of the kids start giggling at him. Brats, the lot of them. He joins in their laughter, though, glad to see them all in good spirits.

“Okay, I can take a hint. See you kids on the ship in fifteen.”

And so Qrow makes his way to one last room before their trip. He prepares to knock, before reminding himself that this is his own room. He turns the handle and steps inside.

Oh.

Clover looks up from his task of tying loose fabric about his waist. “Oh, you’re back. Are the kids ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he sighs distractedly. Qrow can see that Clover is struggling with the material and walks hurriedly past the dresser to take the sand couloured garment in his hands. “Let me.”

A protest is halfway to Clover’s lips as he glances up into warm vermilion eyes. It dies on his tongue. They both know he’s still recovering from the battle. It’s a wonder he fared as well as he did, considering he was thrown into the thick of it so soon after being brought back. A few days should have him in fighting shape, but for now? He could use a little help. And Qrow won’t let him take no for an answer.

Clover relents, moving his arms out of the way as long fingers start their task. It’s a little awkward, arms up in the air, so he gently rests his hands over broad shoulders. Asking permission. Qrow nods faintly, and Clover lets hands settle more firmly against him.

Qrow pulls the fabric tight around Clover, tucks one end and guides it through to tie it off in a knot. He dips a finger in between the waistband and vest, giving a tug to make sure it’s secure.

“Not too tight,” he asks, meeting teal eyes.

“Just right,” Clover breathes, a little caught in that gaze. “So… what do you think?”

Dark eyebrows raise, and Qrow finds himself staring, not at all missing the light flush that rises to tan cheeks. He ducks his eyes back down to the outfit in question, having already taken note of the stark difference to the man’s former uniform. Green, brown, earth. Warm, _living_. He blinks a few times, correcting his train of thought toward something much less dangerous.

“The fit is a lot like what you had before, so it shouldn’t be hard to get used to fighting in it.” At Clover’s chuckle, he realises he has given probably the weirdest response of all. He huffs as embarrassment tinges his own cheeks and decides to make up for it. He languidly adjusts the wide waistband as he speaks. “It’s a _good_ fit, and earthy tones suit you. Thigh strap is a nice touch.”

He grins as Clover’s grip on his shoulders tightens. Still, he won’t push too far. He tries for something lighthearted, less heat. “I mean, you have the look down. But will you really be okay on this trip, Shamrock?”

“You’re not trying to convince me not to come, are you?”

“No, of course not. I’d be… grateful to have you. It’s just, you’re built for the cold tundra, not the scorching desert.”

Clover considers the statement, chewing a lip as he mulls it over more thoughtfully than is probably necessary. To stop himself from saying what he wants, for it’s far too soon to joke like that. Even if it’s not a joke at all.

 _Pretty sure I’m built for you_ , he wants to say. But he can’t. Not when they still have so much baggage to sort through, so many wounds yet to tend. He nudges at Qrow, brushing foreheads, a small smile playing on lips.

“You’re not built for the cold, and yet here you are.”

“That’s different. I didn’t have a choice.” So much for lighthearted, he thinks, brows pinching as the words fall from his lips.

Taking a step back, Clover lets hands fall from shoulders. He holds one out, palm up in a request that Qrow slowly accepts, resting his hand on top. Clover traces his thumb across the backs of fingers, pressing rings gently against skin before giving that hand a squeeze.

“I’m choosing this, Qrow.” 

_I’m choosing us._

“I want to do this.”

Qrow squeezes back. "Sure it's not some sense of duty that you're shifting from Atlas to protecting the whole world?" He shouldn't push so hard, he really wants Clover to join them. He does.

Clover almost laughs. Almost. "Can't promise there isn't a little of that in there. But," he meets Qrow's eyes before continuing, "my reasons are somewhat selfish too."

He's never ventured outside his home kingdom before. He wants to. More than ever, and it is in no small part thanks to the very man before him. For the first time he wants so badly to see what else is out there without worrying about protecting Atlas. After all, Atlas doesn't need him anymore.

They've driven off Salem's forces, however temporarily, and without the staff Atlas will no longer be a target. And with the Happy Huntresses and the rest of the Ace Ops taking charge of restoring both cities, he knows the people are in good hands.

As for James… well, you can't cross a bridge that's been burned like that. Not without the will to rebuild it, and not anytime soon. Not to mention he no longer works for the man.

And so… Clover is free. Free to do as he chooses, for himself. Finally. And if he gets to do all that alongside Qrow and the kids? He will want for nothing more.

The worry in Qrow's brow softens, relaxing at the curious gleam reflected in seafoam. There's excitement there, wonder. And it's enough. Enough for him to accept the simple honesty.

And those eyes downright sparkle as Clover asks, "So whaddya say? Show me the world, experienced traveler?"

With a huff, mirthful but brief, Qrow slips his hand loose to turn around and head toward the hall. He waves back at him, offering a quiet, "After we save the world, Cloves."

Qrow is already out the door by the time Clover processes the gentle promise within those words. But did he really- 

And the former operative hurriedly gathers his pack, slinging it over one shoulder and giving the room one final glance. He's just about to leave when the shine of metal on the dresser catches his eye.

A cross on a chain.

Qrow must have left it. He runs fingers over its worn surface, scuffed and scratched, trying to recall where he'd seen it before. It takes a moment to click, and he can't help but grin as the memory draws up an image of fiery red eyes in the streets of Mantle. Glaring up at him, incredulous.

Clover grasps the chain and fastens it around his neck, not bothering to look in the mirror before he steps out into the hall and shuts the door behind him. He takes a deep breath, exhaling as he releases the handle and walks away.

Away from the military. Away from Atlas. Away from... his home.

One of them, anyway.

All to set out on a quest to save the world with a group of stubborn teens and their self appointed guardian. His new home with a new family.

He picks up the pace, eager to start his journey.


End file.
